Clinical
by MrJsHaHaHarley
Summary: The first thing he noticed about her was her smile. It curled up on one side, really brought out her eyes. It reminded him of his own manually enhanced smile, but her scars were prettier than his. Another reimagine of Mad Love, Mr. J did say he preferred multiple choice.
1. 4479

Dry, brittle blonde hair hung in his view. No, not fully blonde, if he squinted his eyes enough and if it was the right lighting, he could almost make out a green tint. The shampoo they let him use was so chalked full of chemicals it quickly stripped out dye, and left his already damaged hair worst. Sure if he had some nice conditioner of something then it wouldn't be so bad, but what else could one expect from the crazy house that is Arkham Asylum.

The fact he got shampoo AND enough shower time to actually wash his hair was a miracle.

"Patient #4479?"

The cold water wasn't even an issue for him, the dye boxes he 'acquired' always said that cool water was best for a more 'Even application.'

"Patient #4479, can you hear me?"

He shook his hair a bit, watching as the overhead fluorescent light hit a few of his locks. Maybe if he asked nicely they would dye his hair for him. A sudden involuntary jerk brought him out of his vainish musings.

Looking to his left he sees one of the 3 guards stationed around him step back. He must of kicked his chair.

"Patient #4479?"

Oh thats' right, he was in therapy.

"Oops?"

The doctor before him suddenly pulled a face, almost like he just bit into something that tasted foul. Really was a facial expression that he was used to, at least since he's been incarcerated. Most of the ones he saw before that were QUITE different.

"As I was saying, I'm Dr. Charles Markus, and I will be taking over your treatments from this day forward."

The corner of his lips twitched upward into a smile. "New doctor? What about Danny?"

He saw Charles falter slightly at his question, and turn to glance at one of the guards in confusion. This only caused his smile to widen, he could feel the way the skin pulled unnaturally around his mouth.

"You don't remember?" Charles was now reaching for the manila folder that was placed between them. Probably his medical records.

"Remember What?" He cocked his head to the side, trying to come off as 'innocent'. But from the way the rookie guard to his right twitched, that was probably a failure.

Charles had opened the file and was skimming it over quickly. " Patient was administered 400mg of Haloperidol after showing signs of a manic episode." Charles stopped reading and looked back up to him, the man's dull brown eyes stared into his green ones with disbelief. "You were informed of Dr.Douglas's passing, and that I would be taking over in his place."

He gasped in shock, but even a blind man would have been able to tell he was faking it. "Danny's dead?!"

Charles glared now, his new doctor wasn't buying his story of amnesia anymore. "You laughed for 45 minutes straight until a team came to prescribe you a sedative."

He didn't bother with pretending anymore, game was over anyway. Shaking his hair out of his face, he stared at Charles full on now, his infamous glasgow smile in place. " I was upset."

His new doctor shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. " Upset? You laughed?!"

He shrugged his shoulders and stretched. His chains rattling with his movements. Twitchy guard to his right made a motion towards his gun, but stopped. So jumpy.

"You know what they say, Laughter is the best medicine."

He saw Charles slowly shake his head. "And besides...I never would have thought Old Danny boy actually had the guts to pull the trigger. " a giggle suddenly escapes him. " I mean come on! A triple homicide and a suicide?! Looks like I owe Billy my pudding cups for the next month!

He couldn't help himself now and broke down into a laughing fit.

"Get him out of here. We're done." Charles sat back in his chair defeated and turns away.

"Call it in Stanford." The jumpy rookie guard from earlier jerked to attention and pulled out his radio. "Preparing to Transfer The Joker"

The bigger of the two guards paused in unbolting Joker's chains from the chair and floor to reprimand the rookie for his mistake, it was a big no no to use criminal alises. This only caused the fit of laughter to start again.

"Don't be so hard on the new kid Cash."

"Shut it Clown!"

Joker giggled but said nothing, instead he followed along. Allowing Cash to jerk him roughly from the chair and to a standing position. While Cash held him in place, the 3rd guard made sure that his 3 point harness was secure. Wrist. Hips and Ankles.

"Okay ready to move out, sound alarm."

He saw Cash motion to skittish Stan and the kid opened the door.

"Toodle loo doc.." Joker waved his fingers as best he could to the back of the chair, which still held the slumped form of his new doctor.

Carefully he shuffled form the chair, and out of the room, the cuffs on his ankles restricted his movement, so traveling by foot was slow, but anything was better than that hannibal lecter gurney they strapped him to the first few weeks he was here.

Out in the halls, he noticed how quiet it was, as was the norm for Max Security level 3 patients transfers. Blue siren lights were placed throughout the ceiling of the hallway, every MS3 transfer had the blue lights on and flash along the ceilings, and all activity in the halls would cease and they were to stand flush against the wall. The system was complete overkill, but annoyingly effective.

Rolling his eyes, Joker continues his awkward shuffling behind Cash who was leading the pack, with 2 guards stationed at his side. It was like a bad formation for follow the leader. Joker snorted suddenly at the thought of Cash playing follow the leader.

Skittish and the Strong Silent type guard both tightened their holds on his biceps, and Cash glanced back to send a glace his way. Joker grinned and sent Cash a playful wink.

The elevator dinging in the distances pulled his attention away,

There standing by the elevator was a female doctor he had never seen before. She looked to be struggling a little bit under the weight of a box she was carrying, but she still kindly held the elevator door open for them.

"Ain't she a pea-"

Strong and silent might have reprimanded him for speaking, but he was too focused on the heart shaped face of the woman before him. She had turned and was currently smiling sweetly at Cash, but what really got his attention was the long deep set scar that traveled along the right side of her mouth, curved up over her cheek and towards her eye.

Without thought he looked down quickly searching for a badge. He needed a name.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel

_Ha..ha..haaaaaa_


	2. Hahaharley

They never turn off his lights. Joker wasn't sure if it was an actual requirement from his Doctor, or someone wanted to be a bit vindictive—he secretly hoped it was the latter. Just the very thought of the possible malicious intent against him had his mind reeling.

A sudden rapping sound interrupted his train of thought. "' Tis some visitor...at my chamber door"

"Dinner."

'Dinner? What happened to lunch?' Sitting up from his bed caused his vision to blur unexpectedly. 'O..' maybe he did have Lunch, he just might not have been present for it. Good 'Ol Mark-us had to administer another emergency sedative after their meeting. His behavior had once again shown signs of mania. The corner of his lips pulled up in a snare, if Charles continued to pump him full of drugs for every fit of laughter then there was going to be a problem.

With surprisingly steady steps, he makes his way to the opposite wall of the door and leans against the wall of his glass box. His hands placed on the bright yellow circles, and his feet shoulder-width apart. Just like camp counselor Cash had taught him during his first day.

"Dessert is vanilla and chocolate swirl pudding."

The fuzzy edges of his vision rapidly began clearing. 'Well, well, well…'

Ever so slowly, he turned his head to glance over his shoulder, his wild hair obscuring most of his face—but his dark eyes could be seen peeking through. "Vanilla AND chocolate…it must be my_ uh_ lucky day."

Despite his size, and obvious physical prowess; of being built like a freight train. The orderly still flinched when eye contact was made, but that didn't stop him from placing the tray down on the table. "Patient #4479—"

"Come on Frankie….I thought we were friends."

Frank started to blend into the white of his scrubs, his skin had paled considerably. "We—"

"Friends call each other by their names. We are friends? Aren't we Frankie?" he asked as his fingertip lightly tap against the glass.

"O-Of course."

Stepping away from the wall, Joker turned and offered Frankie a smile. A smile so wide that he could feel his chapped lips straining not to split open.

Frank instinctively took a few steps backward toward the door. "Umm I-I'll be back in an hour for th-"

"You'll be back in two."

Frank looked as if he was going to protest and briefly Joker wondered if he was going to be able to finally test out something that been bugging him for a while. Ever since he had first laid eyes on the man, Joker always wonder if it was possible to fit both of his hands around Frankie's meaty neck.

Fingertip to fingertip.

'What color would he turn first?' he tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in thought. 'Pink? Yellow? Purple…yes definitely purple.' His fingers flex subconsciously, before clenching close. 'When was the last time he choked the life out of someone?'

So lost in his thought he almost didn't see Frank make a hasty exit. "Thanks for the dessert, Frankie!" The heavy door shut hard after him, the automatic locks falling into place.

Joker made his way towards the table, reaching forward he peeled back the layer of clear wrap covering his food and placed it to the side. One look at the meal had Joker, pushing the tray away as well. 'Why's it always beans.'

"I hate beans…"

With the tray pushed to the side, Joker was able to take notice of the red folder that was hidden discreetly under the ugly brown plastic. "Now don't you just look delicious…."

Grabbing the folder he studied the name that was on the file. This time his smile did cause his lip to split.

With a quick swipe of his tongue, the small drop of blood that formed was gone. "Hmm, Dr. Harleen Quinzel…What. " Ignoring the chair, he took purchase on the table—his long legs dangling off the side. Placing the folder in his lap, he carefully opened it. Immediately his eye zeroed in on her personal information. Her phone number, address and date of birth already having been committed to memory.

"Graduated high school at 16...and look at all these accomplishments." He flipped over her resume, rubbing the material between his fingers. It was thick, textured and had a nice marble colored finish. It screamed expensive. 'A little desperate Harls.' Her resume also included some of her published medical articles, but only one of them piqued his interest. She had been discussing the concept of societal standards and their impact on mental health. "Riveting."

He continued to flip through the folders, only stopping when he got to her signed contract. Joker lightly ran his thumb over her signature. Her pen strokes were too quick to leave an indent on the paper, but he could easily tell that she had practiced her signature a lot beforehand. Her loops and dips of each letter was almost like a piece of art.

The next thing he came to was what looked like an offer letter;

**_Dear Dr. Harleen F. Quinzel,_**

**_My name is Dr. Joan Leland, I am Head Doctor of the Psychiatric Ward at Arkham Asylum in Gotham City. I have recently been given the task to assist my employer, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, in a research project. During this project, we will be researching one of our high profile patients by the name of Jonathan Cra-_**

With a growl he stood suddenly from the table, the folder falling to the floor and spilling out its contents. The letter clenched tightly between his hands. "No, no, no, no—What?" She wasn't a new resident doctor. Harleen wasn't only a consultant. She was a consultant for Crane of all people. With a grunt, he began ripping the document into pieces. It wasn't until the ground around him resembled fresh snowfall did he realized that destroying the letter might not have been the best idea.

'Oops.'

Crouching down, he lightly started brushing the man-made confetti but he froze when blue eyes were suddenly staring back into his. Heart-shaped face, and that familiar head of blonde. Reaching down, Joker picked up what appeared to be a copy of her driver's license. It was probably not her best photo, but he was still able to see the very thing that pulled his attention to her in the first place. Her scar.

Bringing the paper up to his face, Joker eased down completely to the floor. It did go all the way up to her eye. There was a story here, one that he desperately needed to know. He lightly tapped her scarred up cheek with his pointer finger. Mentally going through all the possible scenarios of how she got the scar. He could tell that the object used was sharp, it had sliced her skin cleanly. Joker tongued at his own carved smile, feeling the raised bumpy skin on his inner cheek.

"Oh, I really can't wait to meet you Harleen. We'll have so much to_ talk_ about."

Joker had long since moved back to his bed by the time Frank had come back for the tray. Though he didn't have to say it, Joker could tell Frank was a bit peeved by the mess.

"Frankie…when you're done with that. I want you to call my lawyer."


	3. Offer Letter

Dear Dr. Harleen F. Quinzel,

My name is Dr. Joan Leland, I am Head Doctor of the Psychiatric Ward at Arkham Asylum in Gotham City. I have recently been given the task to assist my employer, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, in a research project. During this project, we will be researching one of our high profile patients by the name of Jonathan Crane.

This letter is to formally offer you employment at our facility and to assist us with this task. I and my employer have discussed this in extreme detail and we both feel you would be a great asset to the team.

If you have any questions please contact me.

Sincerely,

Dr. Joan Leland

(821) 555-6839 Office

(821) 555-2593 Fax


	4. 10 Weeks Earlier

Harleen wasn't sure how it was possible to be 'catfished' by a building—but here she was. The first thing she had done after receiving the letter from Arkham was turn to the internet. The second thing was pouring herself a glass of her most expensive wine. Her search had pulled up many photos of a large secluded structure, surrounded by hundreds of beautiful trees.

Her cab was only able to take her up to the second security gate, as was instructed by the security guard at that post. 'Only authorized vehicles after the second checkpoint,' they had said. The cab pulled to a stop by the small security outpost. As she paid her cab driver, Harleen noticed that a lone man, decked out in a familiar grey uniform—Harleen assumed this was the official dress code—making his way to the vehicle. Collecting her bag, she exited the cab. She hadn't stepped fully away from the yellow thing before the driver began driving off.

"Dr. Quinseel?"

She didn't get the chance to analyze her driver's somewhat hasty retreat. Instead, she turned her attention to the man who addresses her. Or, at least, attempted to. He had butchered her name quite badly. Offering him a polite smile, Harleen held out her hand. "It's Quinzel. Dr. Harleen Quinzel." He didn't immediately reach for her hand, something she had expected. "Dr. Joan Leland is expecting me."

Harleen felt his soft hand take hers, but only after she witnessed his ears burning in what she assumed was likely embarrassment with a touch of shame. She was used to people staring. "Y-Yes, I'm Officer Fox. Lionel Fox. I was told, I would be expecting your arrival today." Dropping his hand, he turned and gestured to the golf cart parked just on the other side of the outpost. "I'll escort you to the main campus."

The ride had an air of awkward silence. She could tell from the way that Officer Fox tightened his hold on the steering wheel that the silence was bothering him. "So, how do you like working here?" The question threw him off, but the way his hands eased their grip Harleen could tell he was grateful.

"I've only been here for about 2 months, but the hours and pay are good. I just started at Gotham University this year. My great uncle put in a good word for me." Harleen nodded as she listened to him. Her blue eyes taking in the vegetation around them. Or lack thereof. The closer she got to the main campus the more she realized that the trees looked withered, almost as if they were dead.

"Here we are, just go right up those steps. Once you get in the main doors, there will be an intercom to your right. Push that and Pearl will buzz you in." Stepping out of the cart onto the pebble drive, Harleen was thankful for her foresight to wear sensible shoes. "Thank you, Officer Fox." Harleen didn't look back, but she noticed that she didn't hear the whirling of the mini battery-powered vehicle until after she was inside the doors. She didn't get a chance to push the intercom before she heard the loud buzzing go off. Pearl must have seen her walking up.

Stepping into the lobby, Harleen looked around but stopped when a plump fair-skinned blonde woman waved from behind a glass-enclosed security box. "Dr. Quinzel I presume!" Even with the glass partition, Harleen could clearly hear the woman's southern accent.

Stepping up to the glass, Harleen offered the woman a small smile. "Yes, and you must be Pearl?"

Pearl didn't falter when she addresses Harleen. "The one and only. I just need a valid ID sugar. We'll set you up with a temporary badge an' bout time we're done Dr. Leland will be here."

The process was pretty standard. Pearl made a copy of her ID and handed it back to her along with a temporary visitor's badge. About time she clipped the badge to the small pocket on of her white blouse the heavy security door next to Pearl's booth opened. A woman emerged that Harleen could only assume was Joan. Try as she might Harleen wasn't able to find photos of the woman in question during her search.

"Good morning, nice to formally meet you Dr. Quinzel. I'm Joan Leland." Joan reached out for Harleen's hand, and like Pearl, Joan didn't react either. Harleen assumed that unlike herself Joan's search had been more successful. Clasping her hand with Joan's, Harleen was a little surprised by the strength that accompanied the brief handshake. "Yes nice to meet you as well. Thank you for agreeing to meet me so soon."

Joan offered her a polite smile and gestured back towards the security door. "Come, let's head to my office. Dr. Arkham wanted me to apologize for his absence. He had an urgent matter to attend to."

She nodded in understanding. "Of course. I'm sure as the Director he is a very busy man." Harleen noticed the way Joan's lips twitched in a failed attempt of a smile. There was more to Arkham's absence then she was being told. "Really, Dr. Leland thank you so much again for agreeing to this meeting. I felt that it was better to talk about this matter in person."

"You are quite alright. If you hadn't beat me to it, I would have extended the invitation myself." As they passed through the door, the lack of décor stood out the most to Harleen. And though it was just a short hallway the empty space made it seem that much longer. Joan must have noticed her staring. "With the spike of meta-humans in Gotham, Jeremiah thought it was best to remove anything that wasn't bolted down."

Harleen nodded her head slowly just as the elevator doors opened. "You treat meta-humans?" Harleen immediately backpedaled when she saw a spark that ignited behind Joan's eyes. Meta-humans were widely discriminated against. However, Harleen couldn't blame them, their introduction to this new species wasn't exactly pleasant. "I have nothing against them, but I was under the impression that meta-humans were sent over to Blackgate Penitentiary."

The look disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and Joan laughed off the misunderstanding. "Arkham State Hospital has been housing a small number of meta-humans for about five years now, our facilities are more 'comfortable' for these patients than Blackgate."

Harleen had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Whereas Arkham was classified as a hospital, Blackgate was a prison. They don't believe in rehabilitation. The elevator opened on the third floor. Instead of the white walls like the lobby, these walls although equally as bare, and painted a soft blue.

Joan stopped in front of a door towards the very end of the hall. "Jeremiah's office was more accommodating for the meeting. Please excuse the clutter." Clutter was an extreme overstatement. Joan's office was immaculate. If this was cluttered, then Harleen could never let Joan near her office. Joan gestured to the twin leather armchairs in front of a large stainless steel desk. It seemed that Arkham didn't spare any expense for its doctors.

Instead of sitting behind her desk, Joan decided to take the seat to the left of Harleen. "Now, I'm sure you have questions. Ones that couldn't be asked over the pho—"

Joan wasn't even finished before Harleen answered, "Why me?"

The surprised look on Joan's face might have caused Harleen's ears to burn in embarrassment, but she was never one for beating around the bush. "I'm sure there are more qualified individuals you could have reached out to."

"Straight to business, I admire that about you, Harleen." Joan relaxed back in her chair, her ankles crossing. "But yes, if we were just looking for someone with more years of service, there are plenty of more qualified people." Harleen wasn't going to lie and say hearing this out loud didn't sting a little, but it was the truth. Compared to other Doctors in her field, she was very inexperienced with her seven years. "Jonathan before his…" she watched as Joan struggled to find the right words, "current state of mind, was a brilliant doctor. He handled most of our county and state medical evaluations, but his true passion was phobias. Jonathan believed that mental health always came back to a common denominator. Fear. Cure the fear, and mind will be free."

Harleen looked down at her knees as she listened. She could see value in his line of thinking, she herself had even touched on the subject a few times when she was in school**, h**er own childhood having played a part in her work. "I see, but what does that have to do with—"

Darting her gaze back to Joan, Harleen paused as she was met with a grim smile. "Jonathan referenced several of your articles, that's why we reach out to you."

Harleen sat in stunned silence. Jonathan Crane. The man now known infamously as the Scarecrow knew about her work.

And he liked it.


End file.
